


Carry Me Home In Good Health

by labelma



Series: Carry Me Home in Good Health [1]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Contains depictions of violence, Homophobic Language, I'm obsessed with those "Mickey runs into Ian's exes" fics, M/M, Vague references to canon violence and assault, blood and injury tw, but no lasting injuries, but not suPER graphic, so i wrote my own
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:54:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24136942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/labelma/pseuds/labelma
Summary: What started out as a walk to the grocery store on the first nice day of Spring ends... unexpectedly.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher & Mickey Milkovich, Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Series: Carry Me Home in Good Health [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1843747
Comments: 11
Kudos: 351





	Carry Me Home In Good Health

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thank you to my friend Shoshana for beta-ing this and also for putting up with my near-constant Shameless babble. You the real MVP.  
> Title comes from Who Do You Love by Marianas Trench

The shrill sound of Ian’s alarm wakes Mickey up way too fucking early. It’s his day off, and he was hoping to get a little extra sleep in.

Ian moves to get out of bed, but Mickey grabs his arm, keeping him from moving too far.

“Five more minutes,” he mumbles.

Ian chuckles, but relents, lying back down and pulling Mickey flush against his chest, intertwining their fingers. Mickey can feel him pressing kisses into his neck, and he relaxes into Ian’s embrace, letting out a sigh of content until-

“Dude, are you sniffing me?”

Ian has the audacity to look not the slightest bit ashamed, just flashes Mickey one of his shit-eating grins. Mickey can’t be mad with his husband looking like that. 

“I can’t help it; I like the way you smell.”

Ian said that same thing to Carl years ago, during a time when admitting his feelings to Ian out loud seemed like an impossible feat, something he could never, would never do. He’s come so far since then, they both have. He’s been in love with Ian for so long it feels like second nature, like the easiest thing in the world, but every now and then he’s reminded of how hard they had to fight for this. He tries not to take it for granted.

But then Ian’s God-forsaken alarm goes off again and he wants to smother him with his own goddamned pillow.

Ian turns it off and then leans in to press a kiss against Mickey’s temple.

“Try and go back to sleep. Tonight, if I’m feeling generous, I’ll fuck you so hard into the mattress you’ll forget your own name.”

Ian’s breath is hot against his ear, and if Mickey wasn’t so tired, he would pull Ian down and make him prove himself. But he is tired and if he continued down that path he’d never fall back asleep.

“You’ll do it anyway,” he grumbles instead and curls up further into the blankets. Ian chuckles and makes a quiet noise of agreement.

Mickey dozes off slightly to the sound of his husband rummaging around the room getting ready for work. But soon the sound of Franny crying, Ian yelling at Frank to get out, Lord knows how he even got in, and the light streaming through the blinds ruin all chances of Mickey getting any sort of meaningful sleep. He may as well get up and get shit done.

He’ll take his sweet time though.

By the time he makes his way downstairs, the house is quiet. Ian and Debbie left for work, Franny has been dropped at daycare, Liam is at school, and Carl is…well, Mickey actually has no idea where Carl is or what he does with his days. But the kitchen is quiet, and Mickey can sit down and drink his coffee in peace.

And if a small part of him misses the bustle of Ian’s family, his family now, running around getting ready for the day, he’d never admit it.

The weather is uncharacteristically nice for mid-April in Chicago, usually, it’s rainy and chilly. Mickey is sick of being cooped up inside and the pantry needs restocking, so he decides to walk to the farther grocery store which has a better selection. The exercise could be good for him, and the store carries the bagels Mickey knows Ian loves to pack for his lunches.

With the sun shining on his face, breathing in the fresh air, Mickey can almost forget about the shitty south side surroundings and the drunk lowlife puking against the wall next to him. But still, he grew up here. This was his shitty neighborhood. Even if it had changed quite a bit in the years he’d been gone. He'd changed too.

He’s in such a good mood, he even finds himself appreciating the flowers bursting through the cracks in the sidewalk. Not that he’d ever say that out loud.

He’s gay but he’s not that gay.

The sound of shouting jerks Mickey out of his quiet contemplation. He looks across the street to find two large men pushing around a smaller guy. He’s about to turn away and keep walking when he hears one of them call the smaller guy a faggot and shove him into the wall. The smaller man isn’t afraid to punch back, but the sight still has Mickey running across the street despite the honking, and throwing himself into the fray.

He doesn’t hesitate before punching asshole number one in the face. The other man grabs him from behind, but Mickey throws an elbow back and hits him in the nose.

With them taken care of, he turns to the smaller man and jerks his chin at him,

“You alright?”

He nods, about to say something, before his eyes widen and Mickey feels a burst of pain in his side.

“Jesus, what the fuck?”

He barely has time to figure out what happened before the man is pulling his knife out and running away.

Mickey stumbles. The man grabs his shoulder and leads him to sit against the wall,

“Call 911!” he shouts to a woman standing a few feet away from them, hands over her mouth in shock.

Mickey moves to wave him off, but he’s stopped by a twinge of pain. It must show on his face because the man hurriedly pulls his shirt off and bundles it up, pushing it against the wound in Mickey’s side.

“You need to keep pressure on it.”

Mickey spots the telltale scars of top surgery but decides not to say anything. Besides, he’s got more pressing matters to deal with.

“Really, I’m okay, I’ve been shot twice, this is nothing.”

The man deserves credit for not reacting to that with horror.

Mickey begins laughing. He must look like he’s going into shock because concern creeps into the man’s eyes.

“I’m okay really. This is one of my husband’s favorite shirts. He’s gonna kill me.”

The man looks shocked,

“You’re gay?”

“Nah, I just married a man for shits and giggles.”

The pain must be making him snarky, and the guy isn’t laughing. Maybe he just doesn’t get Mickey’s humor.

“Yeah, I’m super fucking gay. You can stop hovering; I’ll be alright until the ambulance comes.”

He doesn’t look so sure but moves to sit down next to Mickey anyways.

“I’m Trevor by the way.”

“Mickey. Would say pleasure to meet you, but well…”

Trevor laughs, but there’s something tight in his eyes. His mouth twists like he wants to say something but isn’t sure how. He must figure it out eventually because he begins talking in a low angry tone,

“It must be nice to not be recognized as gay everywhere you go. To be able to walk places without getting slurs thrown at you from every direction.”

Mickey laughs but there’s no humor in it.

“Believe me, I am intimately familiar with homophobia, it was one of the defining characteristics of my childhood. Besides, it doesn’t matter how gay I look, when I’m out with my husband people always say shit. Usually, we just ignore them, but it helps to have a mean right hook.”

Trevor eyes Mickey thoughtfully,

“You’re right, I shouldn’t have assumed, I’m sorry. And thanks, you know for coming to my rescue.”

He smiles at Mickey, and he looks sincere enough.

Mickey hears a siren, and an ambulance comes to stop in front of them. His eyes are immediately drawn to Ian bursting out the back of the vehicle with his pack, the picture of professionalism.

As soon as Ian spots Mickey, the professionalism drops, and he rushes forward, face twisted up in worry.

“Jesus Christ you got stabbed?! I leave you alone for a few hours and you manage to get yourself stabbed?”

Ian reaches him and crouches down. His hands come up to cradle Mickey’s face and his eyes rove over his body as if checking to make sure he’s whole.

“I’m fine.” Mickey protests, as Ian begins to inspect the wound.

“You’re not fine, you got stabbed.”

“Only a little.”

Ian pauses his ministrations momentarily to glare at Mickey.

“If I didn’t love you so much, I would kill you myself.”

Mickey pulls Ian up until their faces are level with each other, and he presses their foreheads together. Ian lets out a shaky breath. He knows Ian is worried. He would be too if their positions were reversed.

“I’ll be alright. I have you taking care of me.”

He kisses Ian softly before letting him get back to his work.

Ian asks his partner for supplies and pours some sort of liquid on the wound. It stings and Mickey hisses in pain. Ian strokes his face reassuringly.

“How the hell did this even happen?” Asks Ian, intently focused on dressing the wound.

“He was helping me actually,” says Trevor.

Ian looks up, only just now noticing the other man.

“Trevor?” Ian’s brow creases in confusion. “Why aren’t you wearing a shirt?”

“I gave it to Mickey to help stop the bleeding.” He motions to the bloody shirt laying crumpled on the ground. Ian nods in understanding but there’s an uncomfortable tension in the air.

“Wait, do you two know each other?” 

Ian and Trevor are very purposefully not looking at each other. 

Ian finishes his cursory treatment and leans into Mickey, gripping his waist and pulling him up and in the direction of the ambulance. 

Mickey isn’t so out of it that he misses the fact that his question had been ignored and, suddenly, all the pieces click into place. 

The boyfriend. The one Ian taunted him with when he broke out of prison and came for Ian. It’s an old wound, one that’s healed and scarred over but it still hurts. Mickey knew he was a trans man but he never knew his name. Now he does. 

He lets Ian maneuver him into the back of the ambulance, and nods to Trevor before the doors close.

Ian’s partner speaks up from her spot in the driver's seat, 

“Ian, take the rest of the day off. I’ll swing by the station and grab one of the rookies.” 

Ian nods gratefully to her, gripping Mickey’s hand. 

“I’m sorry,” Ian chokes out, brow creased and mouth turned down in worry for Mickey mixed with the no doubt complicated feelings he had running into his ex. 

Mickey squeezes his hand, 

“You have nothing to apologize for.” Ian’s eyes meet his and they’re red, maybe even a little watery. 

Mickey sighs and continues, “let’s get this thing taken care of, and then we can talk okay?”

Ian nods. He takes a deep calming breath and his eyes pan over Mickey’s body, drinking in the sight of him whole and mostly unharmed. 

“Mickey?” 

“Mhm?” 

“Is that my Frank Ocean shirt?” 

Mickey has the good grace to look at least a little guilty. 

“I’ll buy you a new one” 

Ian dissolves into laughter, just a step from hysterical. 

“Damn right you will.”

* * *

“Ah fuck this hurts.” 

Mickey groans as Ian helps him past the threshold of the Gallagher house, arm wrapped firmly around his waist. It had been a long wait at the hospital. Mickey had been treated at the site of the accident and wasn’t in any sort of immediate danger of bleeding out. So, he was triaged in the emergency room and had to wait two hours before he even saw a doctor. A few hours later, after a CT scan and an antibiotic shot in his ass, Mickey was discharged with some bandages and a bottle of what was essentially extra-strength Tylenol.

Ian deposits Mickey on the couch, moving past him into the kitchen to grab two beers and then plopping down next to Mickey, pressing their thighs together and settling his arm around Mickey’s shoulders. Mickey leans into him, resting his head against Ian’s chest. Ian’s warm steady presence allows Mickey to finally relax.

“I have to say, when I woke up this morning, I didn’t think this is how my day would go.” grumbles Mickey.

Ian chuckles and rubs his fingertips into Mickey’s scalp 

“Yeah when I left for work this morning, I certainly didn’t expect I’d be called to a stabbing only to find my husband sitting there bleeding on the curb.” 

There’s humor in Ian’s voice, but also residual worry. Mickey turns his head and presses a chaste kiss against his lips. 

“I’m fine. I really am. Idiot didn’t even know how to stab properly, he missed everything important. I’ll be good as new in like, a week or two.” 

Ian nods and lowers his head into the crook of Mickey’s neck. He takes a deep breath. 

“I bet you also didn’t expect to run into your ex-boyfriend today too, huh?”

Ian was silent for a few moments. 

“No, I didn’t. I was kind of hoping I wouldn't run into him ever.” 

Mickey frowns. He knew Ian had dated other guys when he was in prison, and he knew one of them was a cheating asshole. But he never did get the full story of what happened with the other, with Trevor. After almost running away to Mexico that is. And it still hurt, the way Ian had thrown his new boyfriend in Mickey’s face, told him he’d moved on without him. But Mickey also knew that Ian had been trying to protect himself, and that his Ian now was sitting, holding Mickey like he was the thing keeping him afloat, face distressed. 

“You can talk to me,” says Mickey quietly, hand stroking Ian’s cheek, “We both made mistakes. Shit happens you know, but I’m here now and I love you. That’s not going to change. I won't hold the past against you, so if you need to talk, you know I’m always going to be here for you.” 

Ian nods, but his brow is still furrowed as if in pain. 

“It’s not…” Ian seems to struggle for a moment before continuing, 

“I thought you were going to be locked up for fifteen years. You were the love of my life but you were gone and I was just barely gaining control of my own mind. I shouldn’t have left you there alone but I didn’t know what to do. I tried to move on with Caleb, but he was an asshole who I was never good enough for. Then there was Trevor and he was nice. I settled because what was the point? I'd already lost the one person who I knew deep down was the only one I would ever truly love. I ignored all the red flags, how he never gave me the benefit of the doubt, never gave me a chance to learn, never willing to understand where I came from, pressured me to do things I wasn't comfortable with.” 

Ian pauses for a moment, swallowing, muscles tense. 

“It’s okay.” Mickey wasn’t exactly sure what he was reassuring Ian of, but he hated the way Ian’s face twisted up as if he was in pain. He never wanted Ian to look like that, even if he knew it was important to have this conversation. 

Ian continued, 

“And then you were there,” Ian’s lips curled in a faint smile, “It was like every dream I’d ever forced myself not to think about except it wasn’t because you were on the run. Still, I was fooling myself if I ever thought I could stay away. I even told Trevor I wouldn’t get involved in your shit but I knew I was lying. It was the perfect nightmare because I couldn’t stay away from you but I couldn’t go with you to Mexico either-”

“I know, I shouldn’t have asked you to.” 

Ian smiles sadly and shakes his head, 

“No, I know why you did it. And you know why I couldn’t go. But watching you leave was the worst experience of my life. I’d never stopped loving you, and I knew I never would but you were gone. You were gone and I thought I’d never see you again. It was like a part of me left with you. So I went back to Chicago and I ruined my own life. At the time I thought I was just trying to help kids who couldn’t help themselves. Looking back I think fighting for kids who went through the same shit we did was the only way I knew to be close to you. But no one saw how unstable I was. Trevor just got mad at me because he thought I was too into the fame. My family was so wrapped up in their own crap that they couldn’t see I was drowning. But you would have seen I needed help. You did see. You risked your own life for the man who walked away from you twice because you knew I needed you. And I can’t even regret the mess I made because it brought you back into my life. You’re the only person in the entire world who ever just loved me for me. Every other guy either wanted something from me or wanted me to be something I wasn’t but you just wanted me. I never have to pretend with you. I just, today, running into Trevor, seeing you so pale and bloody it brought back memories I didn’t want to remember.” 

Mickey’s throat felt hot, and his eyes were watery. He grabs Ian’s face and forces him to meet his eyes, 

“Hey. I will always, always be there when you need me. We fucked up but we got a second chance. I’m glad you were able to get that off your chest, and now we can leave it in the past. We aren’t walking away from each other anymore.” 

Ian sniffs and holds Mickey impossibly tighter. He nods with his face pressed against Mickey’s neck. Mickey runs his hands through Ian’s hair and presses kisses against his shoulder.  
They stay like that for a few minutes, just breathing each other in. Mickey didn’t have words to describe how happy he was, how thankful he was that he could have this. Ian wrapped around him, Ian’s ring on his finger, no fear of anyone or anything coming between them.

For years Mickey thought he had been doomed. At first, it was because he knew he would never be the son his father wanted. The straight, disaffected crime king his father was raising him to be. And then he met Ian and he thought he was doomed for an entirely different reason. Doomed to be the booty call. Doomed to be too afraid to ever act on his feelings. Doomed to have any possible chance at happiness ripped away by his father, by his wife, by Ian’s mental illness. And then he thought he was doomed to lose the love of his life. 

But now, sitting in his husband’s arms, he can’t seem to recall that hopeless feeling. And when he looks into Ian’s eyes, he can’t remember a time he wasn’t in love with this man. And now he gets to show it, every single day. 

Every single day for the rest of their lives. 

It’s not such a bad deal. 

“What are you smiling at me for?” asks Ian, voice thick with emotion. 

“I love you. I love you so much.” 

Ian laughs and kisses Mickey’s temple. 

“I love you too. So much.” 

Mickey smiles up at him. 

“Now, since I’m the one who got stabbed, I think that means I get to pick what we watch.”

“If you pick another damn Seagal movie, I swear to God Mickey.” Ian’s words suggested he was annoyed, but the fond look in his eyes suggested otherwise. 

Mickey let out a long-suffering sigh. 

“All right, I suppose we can compromise.” Mickey shoots Ian a cheeky grin, “And I think you owe me a fuck.” 

The last of the angst fades from Ian’s eyes,

“Oh is that so?” 

A smirk splits his face as he leans forward into Mickey’s space. 

Today may not have been the best of days as far as Mickey is concerned, but sitting on the couch with his husband trailing his fingers down Mickey’s abdomen towards his belt, he can help feeling there’s nowhere else he’d rather be.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed! ^_^


End file.
